Poker, Chocolate, and Definitely No Fronds
by hutch-life
Summary: A game of poker and boy-talk leads to some serious r&r for Kirk and Spock. Originally PWP, but a plot seems to be blossoming ...
1. Chapter 1 Poker With Benefits

**Poker, Chocolate, but Definitely No Fronds**

**(A/N: Shameless PWP. Graphic sex and some bad language.)**

"Well, nobody told me it was odd!" growled McCoy, knocking back the remainder of his scotch and looking witheringly across the table at his captain. Kirk's eyes were watering, he'd been laughing so hard.

"Well they certainly would have, Bones," Kirk said, wiping his eyes on his sleeve, and grinning widely, "if anyone'd walked in on you," he started laughing again, clearly imagining the scene.

"Jackass," muttered the doctor, as he reached for the bottle, and refilled his glass. He missed slightly, and some of the alcohol splashed onto the cards that lay discarded before him on the table. Their game of poker had been somewhat forgotten as the conversation had taken a turn towards the obscene, and the deck was spread haphazardly, cards facing rebelliously up and down as they pleased. Spock still held his neatly in one hand, as if clutching valiantly to the hope that his companions might stop talking about masturbation. He was not in luck.

"S'all right," laughed Kirk, recovering himself again, "we've all experimented." He turned his gaze upon Spock, and McCoy saw the Vulcan stiffen slightly as he met the captain's eye warily. "Come on, Spock," smiled Kirk, slapping him on the shoulder, "Tell us something about Vulcans. There must be some weird techniques going on there,"

"My physiology, in that regard, is notably similar to your own, Captain," answered Spock, watching Kirk closely. McCoy let out a snort, and sipped his drink. Kirk leered across the table at him, seeking out the next piece of entertainment like a bloodhound after a doe.

"What?" he asked, looking enquiringly at the doctor,

"Nothin'" answered McCoy, his tone still grumpy,

"Aw, come on, doc!" persisted Jim, taking a gulp of his drink.

"Well, all I've got t'say is that Mr. Spock's physiology ain't all that similar to mine, from what I remember of the last physical," he grumbled. Spock arched an eyebrow at him, still holding his cards carefully,

"What? Tentacles?" laughed Kirk, "Suckers? Fronds?"

"Fronds, Captain?" intoned Spock, disparagingly. Kirk laughed,

"Nah, nothing like that," answered McCoy, "Let's just say that I'm sure the female crewmen might overlook his hobgoblin ears if they'd seen what I did,"

Kirk's eyes widened, as he turned and grinned at the first officer,

"He's packing!" he shouted gleefully. He slapped Spock on the shoulder again, and then clicked his glass against the Vulcan's, "Well, congratulations Mr. Spock,"

Spock sighed. But nodded once in acknowledgement,

"Thank you, Captain,"

"Well, on that note," said McCoy, standing a little unsteadily, and stepping away from the table, "I'm calling it a night. S'not all about size, you know," he mumbled as he walked towards the door and patted Kirk's shoulder as he passed,

"Good night,"

Kirk and Spock both intoned replies, and once the door to Kirk's quarters had slid closed they were silent.

"I think, Captain, that I might also retire," said Spock, finally putting down his cards. Kirk frowned and held out a hand,

"No, don't leave yet, Spock," he said, "Have another drink with me."

"I'm afraid the pleasures of your alcohol are lost on me," answered Spock, as Kirk filled the glass that sat next to his elbow.

"Have some more of that chocolate, then," said the captain, winking at him, "I'll get you to relax somehow, Spock,"

Spock broke off another piece of the dark bar, and bit it. Jim watched him eat it, and then after a moment's silence, he leant forward, resting his chin upon his hand,

"So, Spock, this … this impressive package of yours," he chuckled before continuing, "has it seen much action?"

"Are you asking me about my sexual relations, Captain?" replied Spock, sitting back in his chair, and surveying the man without any show of emotion.

"Yeah," answered Kirk with a smile, "I mean, I know what you Vulcan's are like about personal stuff, but we're friends, Spock. I'm only curious. That Pom Farm thing – is that …"

"Pon Farr, Captain," interrupted Spock, shifting a little in his seat, "It occurs every seven years."

Kirk nodded, an expression of diligent interest on his face as he carefully smothered his grin,

"So, do Vulcan's only … you know …?"

"No, Vulcans participate in sexual relations whenever they desire to," answered Spock, "but the call of Pon Farr must be answered."

"Right," nodded Kirk, "I see. So, do you often – I mean to say, I've never seen you with a woman. You're a good looking guy, in a Vulcan-y kind of way,"

"We are aboard a starship, Captain. I'm sure you understand the difficulties,"

Kirk nodded. He knocked back his drink and sat back in his seat.

"It's been a while for me, too," he sighed, rubbing one hand on his thigh absently. "Damned difficult when you're on a ship light-years from anywhere, surrounded by crewmen in those skirts,"

"Perhaps you should put in a recommendation to Starfleet regarding the uniform."

Kirk glanced at Spock, trying to assess whether he was trying to crack one of his rare jokes. Spock stared back at him mildly, but Kirk laughed all the same.

"The way I'm feeling, Spock, I'd have to recommend that all female crewmen were removed from duty all together. For their own safety." Kirk let out a laugh, "And perhaps some of the men as well," he added.

"If you truly feel that you are a risk to all aboard, Captain, I may have to ask Dr. McCoy to assess you."

Kirk laughed again, and nodded, "Perhaps. Though I don't think he's in any state to assess anything right now."

"Our next scheduled port may offer a resolution for your affliction, Sir," said Spock, dropping his tone. Memories of the recreational facilities on Spaceport Epsilon 43 filtered into Kirk's head, and he shrugged,

"Maybe," he sighed, "Five weeks away though," he finished in a resigned voice. Spock did not answer, and they sat in silence for a while. Finally, Kirk cleared his throat, and asked;

"Have you ever been with a man, Spock?"

Spock eyed Kirk with an alarmingly piercing gaze, and remained mute. Kirk raised an eyebrow in a parody that he was sure was not lost upon the first officer. Finally, when it was clear that the captain was not going to relent, Spock replied,

"I have, Captain. When I was younger."

A smiled pulled at Kirk's lips, but he attempted to keep it in check. He filled his glass again, and sat back, taking a sip,

"Tell me about it,"

Spock looked a little affronted, but Kirk had had too much to drink to allow the opportunity for further questioning to pass. Spock sighed, which made Kirk smiled even more. It was one of his more common, human, traits. Spock broke off another piece of chocolate and ate it,

"It is not uncommon for the young on Vulcan, before it is appropriate for an individual to have relations with the opposite sex, to engage in such activities with one's friends. I was no different in this to my peers."

"Doctors and nurses?" chuckled Kirk, "Yeah, I had a go at that too,"

"There was no medical practice involved," answered Spock, finishing the chocolate. Kirk rolled his eyes,

"So, what about since then?"

"There have been a few occasions, Captain," answered Spock, with a finality to his tone that, even in his somewhat inebriated state, Kirk respected.

"Well, I've had my fair share of man-loving," said Kirk, and then fell into a fit of laughter at both his own candour and the turn of phrase that he had employed. When he recovered, and glanced up at Spock, he found the Vulcan looking at him with one eyebrow cocked at the outburst. Kirk almost felt his judgement physically evaporate as he leant in towards Spock, and lay a hand upon his thigh, under the table,

"What?" he asked, grin plastered on his face, "Can't you think of any reason someone might want Jim Kirk?"

He slid his hand lasciviously up the firm thigh, and was surprised at the shot of arousal that it sent through himself. Spock cleared his throat, and Kirk was sure that he could see a faint green flush on Spock's neck, though, of course, it could have been the chocolate. Spock moved his chair back from the table, effectively dislodging Kirk's hand. But Kirk was unperturbed. He wasn't sure at what point his game had turned into a full-blown man-hunt, but he felt very decided about what he did next.

Spock was rising from his chair, but Kirk quickly moved in front of him, stepping between Spock's chair and the table edge, one foot on either side of the Vulcan's. Spock could have easily pushed him aside, but even when it was clear that his captain was not in his right mind, he seemed to feel such an aggressive action to be undiplomatic. He sat back down, looking up into Kirk's face with a very closed expression.

"I can think of some reasons that a person could want _you_, Spock," said Kirk huskily. Bending down with a hand upon each arm of Spock's chair, Kirk met his first officer's lips slowly. He was surprised at how hot Spock's lips were, though he knew he should have expected it – Bones was always making derogatory comments about the scientist's physiology. Spock did not respond, but neither did he pull away. Kirk persisted, kissing him slowly, allowing his breath to brush the Vulcan's face. Kirk moved his hand up the arm of the chair until he located Spock's, which was clutching the upholstery tightly. He ran his fingers over the back of it, relishing the intimate feeling of another, and following the raised ridges of Spock's tendons. He inched his fingers to the edge of Spock's hand, and encouraged him to let go of the chair, kissing him all the while. Spock released his grip, and Kirk slid his fingers underneath, finding Spock's palm to be dry and hot. As he stroked the skin gently, Spock let out a searing breath against Kirk's mouth.

Suddenly, Spock was returning Kirk's kiss, his lips grinding demandingly. Kirk returned the pressure, and their teeth clicked as they fought for dominance. With a thrill, Kirk felt Spock's other hand grasp hold of the hem of his shirt. He groaned softly, but the noise seemed to break the spell. Spock suddenly pulled away and turned his face to the left, his breathing unsteady, and his hand still clutching the shirt fabric. Kirk, panting a little, stared at him, silently. Spock refused to met his eyes,

"We should stop, Captain," he said, his voice unusually soft. Kirk blinked, pausing for a moment. Then he moved closer, brushing his lips against Spock's jaw,

"Why, Spock?" he murmured, "You want it, I can tell. Just this once … we both need relief,"

He could feel Spock's pulse beneath his mouth, and smell the deep, masculine scent of his skin.

"Captain," Spock sighed, his voice vibrating through his throat, the warning tone hanging in the air.

"We can forget about it, afterwards," whispered Kirk, trailing his kisses up Spock's jaw, to his ear, "Pretend it didn't happen …"

"I am compromised," replied Spock, "The cocoa – it has affected my judgement,"

"Yeah, it's the alcohol that's fucked me over, Spock," said Jim, nibbling gently at Spock's earlobe, "We'll have something to blame it on, I suppose." He moved away a little, and pulled Spock's face around. The science officer slowly raised his eyes to meet Kirk's. "Spock, please. I want this … I want you,"

He leant forward again, and met Spock's unresisting, lips. A moment passed, and then something in Spock's will seemed to snap. He opened his mouth and began to kiss Kirk again, passionately. Then, without breaking away, he stood, taking hold of Kirk firmly by the upper arms, and pressing him back against the table. Spock's lips were moving hungrily against his own, teeth clashing angrily. Kirk moaned at the intensity of it. It was awakening a part of him that he kept carefully buried and repressed during his time on the Enterprise. He raised a clammy hand to Spock's chest, grabbing at the blue Fleet-issue shirt, and fisting it roughly, pulling his second-in-command forward, more to encourage him than affect any real movement. Spock was already as close as he could be, and the backs of Kirk's thighs were starting to ache from being forced into the edge of the table. He heard a glass topple as Spock pushed a leg between his.

"I … I didn't know you had this in you, Spock," Kirk gasped as he broke away from the blazing lips to catch his breath. Spock set about mauling his neck with his mouth and teeth, but whispered fiercely,

"Stop talking, Jim,"

Kirk's closed his mouth with a snap and hung his head back, loosing himself to the feel of another person's attentions. It wasn't like he'd never been with a man, though it had been a number of years. He preferred women. He relished their softness, the feel of their breasts against him. But he was not a man to turn down pleasure when it was offered to him. Spock was a handsome man – Kirk knew this as well as the next person. He'd often taken a moment to observe the Vulcan's figure as he bent over the displays on his console, something that he felt was perfectly legitimate. But never had he expected, or perhaps dreamed, if he was honest with himself, that Spock could be this passionately intense. Vulcan emotions ran deep. That much was clear from their stormy history, and Spock had intimated as much. Kirk had always known that Spock felt as much as anyone, but he had never guessed that it might take so little to break through those painstakingly erected barriers.

Spock was ripping at his shirt, and Kirk hastily tore it over his head, eager to remove any distractions quickly, lest Spock come to his senses. The pause was, however, long enough for Kirk to meet Spock's eyes for the first time since he had been pushed up against the table. He was astonished to see the rawness of the expression in his friend. It made him catch his breath, and sent a heavy pulse through his veins. Kirk felt his dick throb as the blood started to pool there. Without any prompting, Spock pulled off his own shirt, and cast it aside. Kirk allowed a groan to pass his lips as his eyes took in the view exposed to him; Spock was slim and well muscled, with dark hair covering his chest and stomach thinly. Kirk pulled the science officer forward again, and their lips met while the captain ran his fingers over ever inch of uncovered skin. He moaned loudly into Spock's mouth as the Vulcan grasped the bulge in his trousers, almost too firmly. Spock rubbed his swollen dick through the rough fabric, his fingers creeping down between Kirk's legs to cup his balls. Spock radiated heat like a furnace, and his body, pressed up closely against Kirk's shook as if he was thrumming with energy, held barely in check.

Kirk's pushed his hands downwards roughly, over the muscled stomach of his friend, down to the waist of his trousers. A thrill of excitement rushed through him as he felt the hard outline of Spock's erection, and heard a groan from his otherwise silent companion. Spock's hand closed as tightly around Kirk's dick as his trousers would allow, and the Vulcan began stroking him firmly. Suddenly, Kirk was glad of the painful pressure of the table behind him – all the blood seemed to rush into his already throbbing erection, leaving him light-headed. Being sandwiched between the table and Spock was the only thing that was keeping him upright. Kirk tried to repay like with like, and stimulate Spock, but such a need had filled him, that he seemed incapable of coordinated movement. He felt a tingle as precome surged and leaked from his erection.

Just as the combination of the blissful stimulation to his cock, and the excruciating pressure of the unrelenting table behind him was coming to a head, Kirk felt himself pulled roughly forwards. Spock shoved him to the floor, and the following instant was there with him, kissing him. The heat was overwhelming, and the floor less than comfortable, but Kirk was glad of the sudden move – a few moments more, and he may have come in his boxers. Spock ripped the fastening of his trousers open, without removing his mouth from Kirk's. Frantically, they both worked the trousers down over Kirk's hips, and with a little effort, Kirk managed to kick of his boots while Spock shoved his trousers and boxers down with an uncharacteristic grunt of irritation.

Kirk almost blacked out when Spock was able, finally, to get his hand properly around Kirk's aching dick. As it was, his head fell back with a thud against the floor, and he let out a long, loud groan. Immediately, he felt Spock's mouth upon his throat, biting hard enough, he was certain, to leave marks. Spock murmured something in Vulcan, a complicated language that Kirk had never mastered. It sent a shiver through the captain. Spock's hand sped up, and a powerful thumb spread precome liberally over Kirk's swollen head. It lasted only a few minutes, before Kirk felt the beginnings of climax seeping into his conscious, he panted, and clutched at Spock's back,

"Spock … stop, I-I'm," he groaned, and Spock leant forward, still jerking his dick expertly,

"I want to see you climax, Jim," he whispered, his voice hoarse and deep. The words were too much, and Kirk felt himself tip over the edge. As Spock sat back, his dark gaze dropping to his hands, and Kirk's erection, Kirk cried out. Weeks and weeks of frustration exploded inside him, ecstasy took over, and he came. His stomach spasmed, and thick jets of semen shot from him, even as Spock continued to stroke.

Kirk panted heavily, his eyes closed. As he recovered from the orgasm, he felt Spock's fingers running through the pool of come that covered his stomach; slowly he opened his eyes. Spock looked back at him, his eyes piercing and dark. There was no hint of a smile as he said, firmly,

"Open your legs,"

Kirk felt a surge of apprehension, knowing what was to come, but did as Spock commanded nonetheless. He pulled his knees up, and let his legs fall open, exposing himself utterly to the heavy gaze of the Vulcan. Spock, with Kirk's come covering his fingers, lowered his hand and drew them over Kirk's tight entrance. Kirk let out a shaky breath, and closed his eyes, willing himself to relax. However, when Spock's finger pushed past the ring of muscle, it was accompanied by a firm, yet surprisingly gentle kiss. Kirk returned it eagerly, and soon felt a second finger joining the first.

It didn't really hurt – if anything it only smarted a little, and felt strange. It had, after all, been quite a long time. Spock's body was hot against his own, and his kisses had grown increasingly restive. Kirk felt the Vulcan change the angle of his wrist, and suddenly a wave of pleasure rocked him; he let out a load groan, which was only partially smothered by Spock's mouth. Spock repeated the action again and again, until Kirk's breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. Spock added a third finger, and this time, Kirk only pushed down upon his hand harder. Finally, Spock pulled back, and sat on his heals. Kirk watched in a rapture of desire and impatience as Spock undid his flies and pulled out his cock. It was large, faintly green, and fully erect. Spock's balls hung heavily beneath. Spock stroked himself languidly a few times, under Kirk's lecherous gaze, and then coated himself with the remainder of the semen, before positioning himself.

"God, Spock!" Kirk cried out, as Spock finally pushed inside him. It hurt, the pain cutting through the numbness the alcohol had induced. Kirk bit back a groan of discomfort as Spock's erection stretched him. The first few thrusts, which Spock made mercifully slowly, were quite agonising. But on the fourth thrust, Spock repositioned his hips, and hit Kirk's prostate hard. Kirk's head fell back, and he let out a strangled cry. After that, Kirk's thoughts lost any recognisable train, and he relinquished himself entirely to the pounding of Spock's cock in his arse, the heat of Spock's body against his, and the burn of the carpet on his back. After what seemed like a lifetime, he felt the rhythm of Spock's thrusts falter, becoming faster and less accurate. He opened his eyes, and in the dimmed light of his room, he found Spock's face above his own. For all that it was a drunken fumble, and for all that it was only a quick release, Kirk felt something deep as he looked up at the other man. It was a humid, oppressive, and addictive feeling. He felt his throat tighten painfully, and his eyes prickled. Spock's expression was totally undone – his brow furrowed, his eyes full of ecstasy, desire, and a sort of wonderful fear. He was giving himself over to passions that he worked his entire life to extinguish.

Spock let out a shuddering gasp, and took hold of Kirk's cock, which he had not realised until now, was fully erect and bobbing needily against his stomach. A few strong strokes were all it took, and Kirk was flung over the edge again, spilling himself against his stomach, and over Spock's hand. He felt Spock spasm, and the Vulcan grunted, coming powerfully inside his captain.

They lay, side-by-side, for a long while, upon the floor, staring up blankly at the ceiling. Kirk was afraid to speak. He didn't want to say the wrong thing, and bring an avalanche of guilt and regret down upon both of them. He knew that he could move on from this. It would become a memory – a glorious page in his life. He could go about his business, with perhaps a few well-chosen play-on words and lingering looks to keep the memory alive. But what about Spock? Would he allow his integrity to get the better of him? Could he move on? Almost fifteen minutes passed, while Kirk sunk back to reality. And then, suddenly, and completely unexpectedly, Spock spoke,

"I fear you may need to visit Sickbay, Captain. I our interactions may cause you some discomfort for a few days,"

Kirk turned his head to the right, to look at Spock's profile. His face was impartial as always. Kirk's heart sank,

"Yes, thank you Spock, I will," he answered softly, his voice hollow.

And then, something marvellous happened. A smile pulled at the corner of Spock's mouth, and he turned to Kirk,

"I don't know how you are going to explain your need for an antiseptic healing cream to Dr. McCoy, Jim."

A smile spread slowly across Kirk's face as he felt his heart soar from the pit of his stomach right up to his throat. He laughed and rubbed his face,

"No," he chuckled, "no, neither do I, Spock."

Thanks for reading! Criticism, as always, very gratefully received!


	2. Chapter 2  He's No Mind Reader

**He's No Mind-Reader**

"Captain!" Nurse Chapel smiled as Kirk walked into the Sickbay. She stood up, turning from her desk, and stepped towards him, "What can I do for you? Are you here to check up on Mr. Tucker's progress?"

"Er, yes," answered Kirk, running his hand through his hair, and flashing her a smiled, "How's he doing?"

"Coming along nicely," she said, nodding, "He should be back on duty within the week, all being well."

"That's good, I know they are struggling without him down in Chemistry. Is, er, is Dr. McCoy around?" he glanced around the ward,

"In his office, Captain," answered Chapel. Kirk nodded his thanks, and knocked smartly on the door.

"Yup?" called McCoy from inside, and Kirk entered, his stomach rolling.

"Hi, Bones," said Kirk, as he took a seat in the empty consultation chair. McCoy looked up and put down his coffee. He smiled wryly at the captain,

"Feelin' it today? I've already prescribed myself two hypos just to get on top of my paperwork. Damned foolish idea o'yours, Jim – poker when we're all on Beta shift."

Kirk laughed, and it sounded unconvincing even to his own ears. McCoy looked at him with a curious expression,

"What's eatin' you?"

"Bones, I need some medical advice," bit out Kirk, trying hard to push down the flush that threatened to creep up his neck,

"Sure," said McCoy turning in this chair to face Kirk fully, his expression taking on a professional air. He looked at Kirk expectantly,

"I just need some … some antiseptic cream,"

"All right," answered McCoy, turning to his console to punch in the prescription, "What's it for?"

"Oh, just a graze, got it in the gym," said Kirk, forcing himself to hold McCoy's gaze,

"Okay, Captain. Let's have a look," smiled McCoy, leaning forward. Kirk hesitated, and then smiled winningly,

"Ah, it's nothing," he said breezily,

"Come on, Jim," replied McCoy, his voice suddenly serious. Kirk stared at him for a moment, and then sighed, scratching his head,

"All right, Bones," he relented, "It's not a graze. Can't you just prescribe it to me, and forget the whole thing?"

"Now, Jim, you know I can't do that. Regs. If there's somethin' wrong with you, I've gotta check it out – just to be safe. Come on, what've you got?"

Kirk felt his cheeks burn almost immediately, and McCoy clearly noticed, because his eyebrow twitched,

"My ass is sore, Bones," muttered Kirk, looking resolutely down at his lap, and putting as much force into his words as he could, "So if you could just give me something for it, I'll be on my way. I need to get back to the bridge."

"Haemorrhoids?" said McCoy, no hint of amusement in his voice, "It's all right – there's nothin' to be embarrassed about." He stood and held out a hand to the examination bed, "Let's have a quick look, then you can be on your way,"

Kirk stood, sighing,

"Bones, it's not haemorrhoids!" he said, irritation colouring his voice. Bones held out his hands, coming to the end of his patience,

"Damn it, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a mind reader! Tell me what the hell's wrong with you, and I'll give you something for it! I'm a busy man – I don't have time to play guessin' games,"

"Okay, okay," Kirk said, holding up his hands to placate his friend, "I'm sorry, Bones, it's just … it's a bit embarrassing."

McCoy stared at him for a moment, and then blinked, nodding once,

"I'm your friend, Jim. I hope you know that I wouldn't ever break your confidence. Not to mention that I'm your doctor. I take patient confidentiality damned seriously." He paused, and held out a hand to the table, "Why don't you just let me have a look? Then we can both get on with our days?"

His pulse racing, and his stomach rolling uncomfortably, Kirk stripped down and lay silently as McCoy inspected him. When it was finally over, and he'd pulled his trousers back on, he sat down, and looked at McCoy.

"Well," the doctor said, straightening things unnecessarily on his desk, "there's not much room for conjecture. It's pretty obvious what's happened, Jim. You really need to be more careful during your … activities," he typed in a prescription, and turned back to the captain. His demeanour had changed dramatically, as if he was trying very hard to stay professional, and not ask questions that were burning in his mind, "I'll give you some antiseptic cream – apply it at least twice a day, and after bathing. I'd recommend avoiding any unnecessary irritation to the area. And in future, you need to use a good lubricant, especially if your partner is likely to be rough," McCoy cleared his throat, "or large."

Kirk nodded, decidedly not meeting the doctor's eye.

Five minutes later, Kirk was leaving Sickbay, a tube of cream in his pocket. McCoy watched him leave with a somewhat ginger stride. The doctor shook his head.

"Anything wrong, Dr.?" said Nurse Chapel, looking up. McCoy raised an eyebrow,

"That depends whether you mean medically, morally or psychologically," replied McCoy, "though I'm tempted to say yes to all three." He turned and stalked back to his office, and muttered,

"Green-blooded hobgoblin bastard."

Thanks for reading! I might run with this for a while, if people want to read more of it. Criticism welcome, as always!


	3. Chapter 3  Fidgeting

**A/N: I know it's short, but I'm working on the next part, which is longer, and more juicy. I hope to have it up soon … but my degree is taking up valuable K/S time at the moment.**

The displays and instruments hummed peacefully on the bridge. Uhura's voice was soft behind him, as she talked to various crew across the ship; two ensigns across to his left were going over some data quietly. Kirk's mind was wondering. As much as he tried to keep his focus on the bridge crew, flashes of the previous night kept appearing before his eyes. The dull throb of pain from his backside wasn't exactly helping him to direct his attention to his work. Kirk shifted in his chair uncomfortably, wincing slightly. He snuck a glance to his right, hoping that Spock might be leaning over one of his instruments, displaying that delectable arse, but found that the Vulcan was turned to him, eyebrow raised. Kirk felt like soon-to-be-roadkill in the headlights of a truck, and froze. His pulse fluttered as Spock's eyes slid down to his backside and then back up. The Vulcan looked at him impassively, and then turned back to his console.

A few hours later, Kirk rose from the command chair and turned towards the turbolift. As he passed Uhura he murmured,

"I'm going for lunch – back in 30,"

She smiled at him, and nodded before turning back to her console. But as Kirk stepped into the lift, and was about to give the command for descent, Spock appeared at the doors. He stepped inside and stood beside the captain, hands behind his back. Kirk hesitated for a moment, and then cleared his throat,

"Where to, Mr. Spock?"

"Deck three," answered Spock, and the doors closed. They were silent for a moment, and then Spock spoke with an official tone,

"I hope you are not in too much discomfort, Captain?"

Kirk shook his head,

"No, I'm fine, thank you, Spock,"

"I noticed that you displayed an elevated amount of movement during the shift," said Spock; he turned his head to look at Kirk, and the man met his eyes. He gave Spock a rueful smile,

"I was fidgeting, I'll give you that," he answered, "but it's nothing that the cream won't fix in a day or two,"

"I take it that Dr. McCoy was acquiescent,"

Kirk nodded, and laughed,

"Yes, but nothing gets past him."

"Indeed," replied Spock, gazing at the doors of the lift, "He is most perceptive, despite his many other faults,"

Kirk smiled slightly and shook his head. The doors opened and Spock stepped out. He turned and nodded to Kirk, and then, with the whoosh of the doors, he was gone. Kirk redirected the lift to the mess, and lent back against the wall, closing his eyes.

"Damn, Jim," he murmured, "you never could resist a nice ass."


	4. Chapter 4 Protuberances and Profanities

**A/N: This chapter contains naughty (and graphic) m/m sex, plus rude expletives. So … don't read if that's not your bag.**

**Protuberances and Profanities **

Days passed. Crises were averted. Memories of past post-poker escapades began to feel more like a dream. Kirk was far too preoccupied to allow the waves of desire which overwhelmed his senses every time Spock approached him on the bridge, to continue for very long. After two weeks, his relationship with his first officer had almost returned to normal. It wasn't that Spock had forgotten, in fact he was pretty sure that the Vulcan might never have forgotten anything in his life, but Spock was definitely a proponent of business-as-usual. The only change was, perhaps, the heaviness that lay in the intimate gazes they shared. The gazes themselves weren't new, of course. Kirk had always relished his status aboard as the only person who could retain a more than fleeting glance from Spock. But now every one of those looks was permeated with their secret. Every sceptical quirk of Spock's eyebrow brought the shadows of their passion to the fore of Kirk's mind.

"Captain?"

Kirk stirred from his reverie, and turned to his left to find Spock standing indecently close to him. Indecent only, of course, because upon realising his proximity, Kirk immediately felt the blood redirect itself from his vitals to his dick. He swallowed, and forced a smile onto his face,

"Sorry," he said, "Yes, Mr. Spock?"

Kirk wasn't sure whether his smile was entirely unconvincing, or whether Spock had noticed his subtle shifting in the command chair to relieve the sudden pressure of his trousers. What he was sure of was that Spock, rather than answering directly, paused long enough to give him the subtlest of disparaging looks, accompanied by an eyebrow. His newly-awoken penis throbbed once more.

"I was saying that we should probably prepare to beam down, Captain. The Polisians are expecting us in approximately twelve minutes."

"Yes," nodded Kirk. He tried to clear his mind, and will his body back under his control. Leaning forward, slyly applying painful pressure to his groin, he tapped the intercom, "Transporter room, standby to beam down landing party. Mr. Scott, report to the bridge for command,"

"On my way, Captain," came the response from the engineer.

"Mr. Sulu, take over until Mr. Scott arrives,"

"Aye, Sir," responded Sulu without turning from his instruments. Kirk stood, thankful that the pain has deflated his interest. He pulled at the hem of his shirt, and smiled at Spock,

"Let's go, then, Mr. Spock,"

Polisia was a strategic move on the part of the Federation. Situated on a busy trade route, the planet's inhabitants were keen to launch themselves into an era of new importance on the interstellar stage. Kirk couldn't blame them, and from the reports he had read, they were, despite their eagerness, a good peoples. He and Spock were to attend a two day conference in the capital. Dull, perhaps, but important.

"We are very busy currently, Captain Kirk," smiled their guide as he lead them through the corridors of the consulate. "So many important guests here for the conference. Not that I'm complaining!" he turned to Kirk again, and gave him a watery smile, as if worried that he might have caused offence, "It's a delight to have so many dignitaries with us. We hope that we can make you all feel welcome and comfortable," the man's smile took on a strained look as he gazed back up the corridor, and Kirk suspected that some of his other guests may not have been easy to care for.

"We are delighted to be here," answered Kirk, and the man shoot him a grateful look.

"Here we are," he opened a door, "I'm afraid we are rather booked up at the moment, so we don't have two separate rooms. I hope this will not be too inconvenient to you?"

Kirk felt his mouth go slightly dry as he stepped into the room, and found it to be perfectly pleasant, but not overly spacious. The two beds at the other end leered at him.

"This is a very nice room," he managed to say, turning to the man and giving him one of his most winning smiles – the sort that often got him the girl. He reflected that this time, all it had achieved was to get him Spock, and therefore seal his probable doom.

The attendant left them, and a silence fell as they both explored their meagre surroundings. Kirk snuck a look at Spock, and found the Vulcan gazing out of the large window,

"Everything all right, Mr. Spock?" asked Kirk. The Vulcan turned slowly,

"Quite all right, Sir. I was merely looking at the surroundings."

"So," smiled Kirk, holding out his hands, "we get to be roomies!"

"It would appear so, Captain," responded Spock, clasping his hands behind his back,

"If you don't like it, I could beam up tonight, or you could," said Kirk, suddenly more serious, "They'd never know,"

"It would show a certain disregard for their hospitality, Captain," the first officer replied, "And I have no concerns about the sleeping arrangements,"

Kirk felt his pulse flutter in his wrist, and he turned to examine a light bracket, nodding. He thought he caught the smallest of smiles cross the Vulcan's lips as he turned, but couldn't be sure. Was Spock playing with him?

"Unless it causes you unease?" came Spock's soft, deep voice from behind him.

Unease? Kirk suspected it would probably cause him about 7 and a quarter inches of unease when it came time for them to undress for bed.

"No, Spock," he answered, his voice sounding feeble.

Try as he might, Kirk could not remain interested throughout the length of the first day of the conference. It dragged on, as Polisian after Polisian took the podium and droned on about some minor detail or other. He tried to focus, but kept drifting in and out of the orations. It didn't help that there was a particularly peculiar looking alien sitting opposite him at the long table. He'd never seen anything like it before, and had to concentrate very hard not to stare at the wobbling protrusions that covered its head where hair would normally grow. He was glad that Spock was there, as apparently no amount of bizarre protuberances could distract him from the diplomatic bullshit. He'd have to ask his first officer to give him a rundown of proceedings later.

After a long, and not unpleasant dinner, he and Spock started back to their room. Kirk had no idea how Spock could locate it, as their route involved no less than seven corridors, three stair cases and a good deal of lefts and rights. He simply followed the Vulcan, while Spock brought him up to date with the conference.

"Did you see the chap sitting opposite?" asked Kirk suddenly, as they walked past a plant with thick, long green leaves that reminded him instantly of the alien that had fascinated him earlier.

"There were a number of delegates sitting across from us, Captain. To whom are you referring?"

"You know, the one with …" and Kirk waved his hands vaguely around the vicinity of his head, his eyes wide. Spock looked at him for a moment, and then turned back to the hallway,

"I believe you mean Ambassador Harnak, of the I'Sofiens,"

"Really?" said Kirk looking at his science officer, "Well, I'm sure he's a nice guy, but, well … rather distracting,"

"Ambassador Harnak is female, Captain," answered Spock, as he stopped at their room and opened the door. Kirk stopped dead and stared at him incredulously. Spock merely returned his gaze calmly, and held out his hand towards the open door, "After you, Sir."

Not much more than an hour after they had returned to their rooms, both Kirk and Spock were lying silently on their separate beds in the near-darkness. Despite the fact that he was not really that tired, Kirk had suggested that it might be time for them to retire, as he found being in the small bedroom alone with Spock, trying to while away the hours, to be bad for the circulation in most areas of his body. Most, but certainly not all. Normally Kirk was a good judge of whether people were asleep or merely pretending, but Spock's breathing was so slow ordinarily, that he could not be sure at all. He rolled onto his side and stared across the room, trying to pick out the figure of his science officer. It was so dark, however, that he had to struggle to glimpse even Spock's bed. After a minute, his curiosity got the better of him.

"Hey, Spock, are you awake?" Kirk whispered quietly. There was a moment's silence, and then,

"I undoubtedly would be now, if I wasn't already, Captain,"

"I can't sleep," murmured Kirk, "It's this strange bed – I'm not used to it," he pummelled the mattress with his fists in an attempt to get rid of some of the lumps in the strange wadding. He lay down again, and let out a irritated sigh, "Ridiculous bed,"

"Mine is not uncomfortable," said Spock from across the room, "Perhaps we could share it?"

Kirk instantly felt a burst of adrenaline pulse through him, in quantities he might normally consider appropriate to facing a pissed and armed Klingon. Then suddenly, and without warning, his body sat up. Kirk could not quite believe it, and panic welled up in his stomach – he was throwing back the covers, standing, walking across the room. Some sadistic puppet master was walking him towards the death of his career. Step by step, closer and closer, into the gaping maw of his military suicide. He quite liked working in Starfleet – he definitely liked captaining the Enterprise … why in the name of all that was precious to him was he about to get into bed with his first officer? Kirk glanced down at his autonomously governing body, and realised somewhat resigned humiliation that his cock, already more than half hard, was jutting impetuously forwards in his boxers. No omnipotent puppet master, then, simply his dick. Leading him hungrily into trouble, yet again.

Kirk could only vaguely see the shape of Spock in the bed as he approached it to within two feet. The pale light of one of Polisia's smaller moons was just enough to make out the dark hair and angles of his face. Spock shifted up against the wall, allowing a little room for Kirk. The man hesitated, and then lifted the corner of the sheet and slipped beneath. They lay still for the space of a minute in silence, and then Kirk felt Spock shift onto his side, to face him. A hot, dry hand ghosted across his chest, and down to his stomach, which rolled with anticipation and nerves, even as Kirk felt his cock throb treacherously.

"I feel it prudent to admit, Captain, that I have not found it easy to forget our encounter after … poker," said Spock softly, his mouth forming the last word awkwardly through unfamiliarity. Kirk found himself unable to answer immediately, as his breath felt suddenly stolen from him.

"Indeed," he breathed finally, "I … I have experienced the same problem, Mr. Spock,"

"Fascinating," purred Spock, and that was it. A pair of hot, determined, lips instantaneously assaulted Kirk's mouth. The hand that had best resting upon his stomach began to explore, caressing his chest and sides roughly. Kirk, employing his well-practiced technique, began kissing Spock back, and was met with a rumbling moan. Spock moved further over Kirk, pulling him none too gently towards the middle of the small bed, and grinding his groin into Kirk's left hip. Kirk took a sharp breath as he felt Spock's erection, as hard as steel, rub against him. He'd deliberately looked away as his companion had undressed for bed, and was therefore pleasantly surprised to find Spock entirely naked.

"Only you, Jim," growled Spock, breaking away from Kirk's mouth, and lowering his to the captain's shoulder, "You – who cause me such endless frustration, such glorious elation," he thrust against the man again, "Only you can make me loose my control like this," he grabbed hold of Kirk's hip in a bruising grip, and ground himself into it. "Damned human," he groaned, his voice apparently full of real anger.

But Spock's evident anger did nothing to extinguish Kirk's arousal. Spock's uncharacteristic, and heated, words were having the exact opposite affect. Kirk doubted very much that he would be able to contain himself for very long if Spock continued to show this raw emotion that was so incongruous with his usual demeanour. His head was spinning. And then a hot, Vulcan hand ripped his boxers quickly down his legs, and encircled his erection, pulling slowly and firmly, up and then down.

"God, Spock," Kirk gasped.

"Is this what you have been thinking about on the bridge while you should have been focussing?" said Spock, as he ran his lips up Kirk's neck,

"Yes," replied Kirk, his voice faltering. Spock was stroking him in time to his continued thrusts against the man's hip,

"Me too," whispered Spock, his breath blisteringly hot against Kirk's ear. Kirk moaned loudly, no longer able to contain his voice. He grasped blindly at Spock's cock, finding quickly, and began stroking him firmly. After a while, Spock ceased his expert assault on Kirk's dick, and pulled forcefully at Kirk's leg, bending the knee, and pushing it to the side. Kirk moaned as Spock ran his hand over the flesh of his buttocks, and drew his fingers down over the sensitive skin of the man's balls, perineum, and finally over his entrance.

"Looks like I'm going to be paying another trip to sickbay," said Kirk thickly as Spock massaged his buttocks with a firm grip, continuing his attentions to the man's leaking erection with his other hand.

"I hope that might not be necessary," answered Spock, and Kirk felt the hot palm leave his arse. He felt Spock's hand up somewhere near the pillow that his head was resting on, and then there was a muted click. The next thing he knew, hot fingers were rubbing coaxingly at his arsehole with something obscenely cold and slick. Spock had lube. Of course Spock had lube. Kirk wanted to pass comment on the fact that the Vulcan had come to the conference prepared to bone his captain's brains out, but somehow, the fact itself had aroused him to such a state that speech eluded him. He moaned instead.

Soon he was groaning like a horny Starfleet cadet, pushing himself down onto Spock's fingers, and it seemed that Spock took this behaviour to be indicative of sufficient preparation. Before Kirk could protest, not that he would have, Spock drew himself up the man's body and, guiding his aim with one hand, sunk his erection slowly into the captain's quivering entrance. Spock muttered something breathily in Vulcan as his balls brushed up against Kirk's arse. Kirk merely went with "Aah, ooh, yesss …"

Spock's first few thrusts were, again, generously slow, but it didn't take long before the lauded Vulcan patience ran out, and he began plundering Kirk fiercely.

"Yes, yes," Kirk began to gasp with every jolt. His chest became slick with sweat, and he could also feel it running down his temples from his forehead. Spock was radiating enough heat to power a shuttle craft, but did not sweat. Kirk ran a hand up Spock's arm and neck, into his hair, pulling at it. Spock answered by engaging him in another round of kissing, which proved to be less accurate and more demanding than previously. As Kirk savoured Spock's lips, he felt the Vulcan's right hand brushing up over his chest, his neck, and then pressing softly against his face. Spock's fingers, naturally, expertly, slid to five points on his head, and for a moment, Kirk the warm spark of a mental connection. For a second he felt his own agonising bliss of being penetrated joined by the urgent pleasure of being the one penetrating. Then, with a frustrated groan, Spock removed his fingers and the connection was severed before it was truly made. Spock ran his fingers up into Kirk's hair and tugged. Kirk was too far lost in pleasure to try to convince Spock to re-establish a mind link.

"God," he gasped as he clung to the Vulcan's shoulder, "you fuck so fucking well,"

"Eloquent. Captain," mumbled the Vulcan, his voice broken from his exertions.

"Jesus Christ!" cried Kirk as his companion continued to pound into him.

"Rather than. Terran deities," the first officer grunted with each thrust, "and the expletives you," he broke off, and groaned, then he leant forward, looking at Kirk directly, "seem to love using. Why don't you use," and then he leant forward, his lips brushing against Kirk's ear, and his voice low and potent, "My. Fucking. Name."

That was it for Kirk. In the end, all it took was a whispered profanity from his first officer. He came, his eyes closed tight, spilling himself over his stomach and the Vulcan's knuckles, even as said hand continued to jerk him roughly.

"Spock," he choked, stars popping in his vision, "Fuck … fuck me, Spock,"

Spock needed no further encouragement to continue, and within a minute – a burning, relentless minute that left Kirk a boneless, shuddering mess – he was spilling himself into the captain with strangled groan.

Kirk was slightly winded when Spock's arm, which had been bracing his weight, gave out, and the Vulcan collapsed on top of him. But the captain's discomfort only lasted a second. As he began to come down from his high, and back to his senses, he moaned softly in bliss. Spock, softening now, was still firmly lodged inside him, and the Vulcan's heaviness, and deep breaths were strangely comforting. He ran a hand up Spock's side and across his ribs, letting it settle upon his back in an intimate gesture. Spock, to Kirk's relief, did not move away from this familiar touch, remaining still, with one hand still buried in Kirk's hair. Minutes passed before Spock eventually shifted, pushing himself up and off of the captain. Kirk felt him run his hands through his own hair and take a deep breath.

"Goodnight, Captain," he said, his voice soft and deep. Kirk felt an imbecilic smile light up his face as Spock's turned onto his side and laid an arm across his stomach. With a feeling of immense satiation and peace, Kirk rolled onto his side, shifting backwards until his arse was tucked neatly up to Spock's groin.

"Goodnight, Spock."

Kirk awoke when the sun began to rise, and light up their small room. For a moment, just the smallest of moments, he was confused as to his whereabouts. But then memories came springing back upon him, and he had to use all of the limited supply of self-control he had in the early morning to stop himself chuckling. He could feel from the heat behind him that he was still in Spock's bed. Very slowly, he rolled over, trying not to disturb the Vulcan. He wanted more than anything to see his face – to know that it hadn't been a dream. He was not disappointed.

Spock lay on his back, one arm cast above his head. He was still sleeping, his breathing slow and shallow, uncovered chest rising and falling rhythmically. Kirk smiled broadly as he studied his friend's face. Spock looked very serene; much like he did any given day on the bridge, but his hair was standing up at all angles. A tangible reminder of what had passed. Unable to resist, Kirk shifted, and threaded his fingers into the soft blackness. Spock breathed deeply once, and then his eyelids fluttered. Slowly he opened his eyes, and focused. Kirk felt his heart skip as they met his own. Leisurely, a smile blossomed upon the Vulcan's lips. It perfectly mirrored the captain's.

**Sorry for taking a while with this chapter. Comments and criticism gratefully received, especially as it may incite further chapters! Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5 Nude Theatrics

**A/N: There's not too much bad language in this chapter nor, sadly, any dirty, filthy, inter-species naughtiness.**

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**Nude Theatrics and Fantasy Flowcharts**

Spock focused on the face that hovered closely above his own. The captain was smiling like a child. Despite himself, Spock felt his own facial muscles mimicking his superior.

"So," said Kirk, his voice unsteady from a night's sleep. He cleared it roughly, "So … this happened."

Spock looked at him silently, considering the faults in the man's poor use of his native language, and deliberating whether such a self-evident comment required a response.

"Yes," he replied finally.

Kirk, still smiling, rolled onto his back, and stared up at the ceiling. The side of the man's body was flush with his own. The feeling of Kirk's skin, cooler than his, and slightly sticky from perspiration, was not unpleasant.

"I didn't expect it," said Kirk, running a hand lazily over his chest and shoulders, "but you clearly had it all planned out, Spock."

Spock tore his eyes from the progress of Kirk's hand, and focused on the ceiling,

"It was logical to prepare for all eventualities, Captain. I did not wish for you to have to make another trip to the perceptive Dr. McCoy,"

The man beside him laughed, and stretched, letting out a sharp sigh. A foot brushed Spock's own, and he had to fight his impulse to move away from the contact.

"Absolutely shocking, Mr. Spock," said Kirk, and Spock could hear the grin without having to turn his head to see it, "seducing a superior officer." The man turned abruptly onto his side, and smiled wryly down at him. Spock felt Kirk's fingers sifting through his hair, "Who are you, and what have you done with my first officer?"

Spock locked eyes with the captain, and saw the familiar glint of humour there.

"It was you who instigated the arrangement, Sir," he replied, "And I can assure you that I am not an imposter, or a phantom."

"No," said the man. Spock felt a cool hand slide across his chest, and over his stomach, "you don't feel like a phantom. You feel like an Vulcan,"

"Insightful, Captain," Spock answered dryly.

"Tell me, Science Officer, what time does that marvellous brain of yours judge it to be?"

"Approximately 0714 by Terran hours."

"So, we have a little time to spare, before we have to return to that hellish assembly hall?" Kirk waggled an eyebrow down at him suggestively. Spock just about stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

"I am not convinced that participating in further intimate relations will improve you concentration during the day, Jim," responded Spock, softening his voice so as not to seem too abrupt. He'd worked with humans long enough to know that there were situations in which they could be easily offended. He believed that 'the-morning-after' might be one of those situations. He could tell that the captain was about to commence with a series of poorly reasoned arguments, but before the man could speak, there was a knock at their door. Spock was astonished at the speed with which the captain vacated the bed, or at least, he would have been if he been capable of such an emotion.

"Who is it?" Kirk called, running his hands through his hair, and looking frantically around for his clothes. Spock sat up slightly and crossed his arms over his chest, content to watch the nude man move urgently around.

"Please, Captain Kirk, I'm Julianna. I have breakfast and hot water for you and the Commander,"

"Er …" murmured Kirk, still searching unsuccessfully for his undergarments. Finally he sprinted across to his own bed, and pulled the sheets over himself, "Yes, thank you, come in,"

As the young woman wheeled a trolley into the room, Spock watched the captain fake a yawn, stretch, and smile charmingly at her. As she laid out the water, towels and food upon the table, Kirk snuck a glance at him, to which the Vulcan merely raised an eyebrow. He was fairly certain that this would concisely convey his opinion of Kirk's unconvincing theatrics.

By the time the second day of lengthy talks had ended, Kirk was more than ready to beam back up to the ship. Even his slight anxiety about what the next few days held for him in regard to his first officer did not dampen his burning desire to get back onto the bridge.

"Right, lets get some stars between us and that council chamber," sighed Kirk with a grin as he leant back in his chair, gazing at the main screen. "Course laid in, Mr. Chekov?"

"Aye Captain," the young man replied with a nod.

"Excellent. Ahead, warp factor two, Mr. Sulu,"

Only a few minutes after they had jumped into warp-speed, Dr. McCoy's pleasant drawl sounded from the intercom,

"McCoy to bridge,"

Kirk flicked the button on his armrest, answering McCoy.

"Jim, if you've got a moment, I'd like to speak to you,"

Kirk felt his stomach flutter briefly, and glanced up towards Spock. The Vulcan had not moved from his workstation, but the slightly turned angle of head indicated that he was listening,

"Um, sure, I'll be down in a few minutes," answered Kirk softly. He stood, straightening his shirt, and turned towards Spock. "I won't be long Mr. Spock,"

Spock turned in his chair, and caught Kirk's eye. He raised an eyebrow, deftly communicating the same thoughts that Kirk already had swirling in his own mind.

"Yes, Captain," he answered, picking up a computer tablet, and striding across to the seat that Kirk had just vacated.

"Everything all right, Bones?" asked Kirk with a smile as he strode into the doctor's office. McCoy looked up from his desk and nodded,

"Well enough," he answered, standing as Kirk took the empty patient's chair. McCoy thumbed a button by the door, closing it, and then returned to his own seat, turning to Kirk. The captain felt his pulse quicken and had to work had to continue to appear at his ease.

"I got a report here," began McCoy picking up a data chip, and holding it out to Kirk, "came in while you were down on the planet. Nothin' too urgent, or at least not yet."

Kirk turned the chip over in his fingers, and then looked up at McCoy questioningly,

"What does it say?"

"It's from the Federation Interplanetary Medical Council," said McCoy, running his fingers through his hair, and sitting back, "seems there's a nasty strain of Pek'aien Fever spreading through some Federation ships. It's taken five down already – they've had to dock at quarantine facilities. One was so bad they had to tow it in. A sixth of the crew were dead before they could get them treatment."

Kirk let out a sigh, and pinched the bridge of his nose,

"What have Starfleet said?" he asked softly,

"There's a list of no-dock stations," answered McCoy, "and they've enforced an embargo on all transportation of personnel and organic substances to any Federation ship until further notice. They also recommend a cessation of any non-urgent terrestrial activity until it's clear that non of the crew are affected."

"What's the incubation period?" asked Kirk,

"It can be up to two to three weeks," answered McCoy, but mostly people are symptomatic within a week. It's a nasty disease though, Jim. I recommend sticking by Starfleet regs on this one."

Kirk nodded, and sighed again,

"I'll go cancel shore leave then. It's almost as bad as cancelling Christmas,"

"The crew'll understand," smiled McCoy. He paused, but before Kirk could get to his feet, the doctor spoke again, "How was Polisia?"

"Oh, you know," laughed Kirk, scratching his head, and gazing down at his boots, "I don't really get on with all that diplomatic bullshit,"

McCoy was silent, and Kirk raised his gaze to meet that of the doctor's. McCoy nodded once, slowly.

"Nothing of note to report, then? No gossip?" he asked leadingly, "No tales of beautiful alien women, and late night interstellar relations?" His question hung in the air, and Kirk felt uncomfortably vulnerable under the doctor's scrutinising gaze. McCoy sighed, and lowered his blue eyes, saying in a resigned tone, "You used to tell me everything, Jim,"

Kirk felt a wave of guilt as he looked at the man. He and the doctor had been through a lot together – and what the man said was true. McCoy looked forward to disapproving of Kirk's strictly off-the-record log updates, almost as much, in fact, as Kirk loved to share them. But this was different. It wasn't some anonymous alien woman from a planet they probably wouldn't visit again for months or even years. This was an alien far closer to home.

"I'm sorry, Bones," he said finally, causing the doctor to meet his gaze, "It's just that …" he paused fiddling with the data chip he still held, "You know what's going on," he said.

"Yeah," nodded McCoy, "I've got an idea. So, down on the planet …"

Kirk simply nodded, finding that he couldn't meet his friend's eyes. He heard McCoy let out a breath, and shift in his seat.

"Are you two," began McCoy, clearly searching for the right words, "Are you official?"

"No, no. Nothing like that,"

"So, what? Is it just sex?

"I – I don't know," answered Kirk, "That's why I haven't mentioned it. Well, that and the fact that, y'know … it's Spock. Vulcan secrecy and all that,"

There was a long pause, which McCoy eventually broke,

"Well, Jim, whatever the hell you decide you're doin', at least keep me informed, yeah? I'm your doctor, and your friend. I wanna keep an eye on ya,"

Kirk laughed, and looked up at the man. He nodded,

"Thanks, Bones. I'd appreciate it if none of this made it into the medical log,"

"You must be kidding. If I logged this, they'd cart me off to the loony bin,"

Kirk smiled, and stood.

"Well, I'd better get back to the bridge. Keep me updated with the fever situation."

McCoy nodded, and laid a hand on Kirk's arm as he passed him towards the door. Kirk met his eye, and found a mixture of amusement and concern in his friend's face,

"That bridge is gonna start feelin' mighty crowded unless you two come to some sort'a understanding soon, Jim," he said softly.

McCoy's words echoed around in Kirk's head as he made his way back to the bridge. The doctor was right, of course – unless he and Spock cashed out the situation in words, they'd both be left feeling confused. And extra confusion was the last thing Kirk needed on a ship that seem predisposed to get itself into a wide spectrum of bizarre, and precarious, scenarios. He'd have to talk to Spock. He was pretty sure that the Vulcan wouldn't like it, as it would unavoidably involve discussion of _feelings_, and _emotions_, which amounted to the human equivalent of being forced to describe every detail of your most hideous sexual fantasy with your grandmother. Perhaps even delivering it as a visual presentation with flow-charts and animations.

The lift doors slid open to reveal the bridge, and Kirk stepped out, his heart sinking into his boots. He walked slowly over to the command chair, his eyes fixed upon the back of Spock's shiny black head. As he drew up to the side, Spock vacated the chair, saying,

"Is everything well in the medical bay?"

Kirk handed him the data chip,

"Starfleet's ordered some pretty tough restrictions due to an outbreak of fever,"

Spock nodded, taking the chip from Kirk,

"Would you like me to look into this for you, Captain?"

Kirk nodded. Spock turned, but before he could move, Kirk touched his arm fleetingly; the Vulcan turned back meeting Kirk's gaze,

"I'd like to speak to you later, Mr. Spock. At the end of Beta shift – my quarters?"

They gazed at each other for a moment which, in Kirk's mind, seemed to stretch almost into infinity,

"Yes, Captain," the first officer answered. Then he was gone.

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**Another slightly boring update, I know. But I'm working towards something … I think. In other news, it was my birthday recently, so I've taken a long hangover break – you can't hold it against me! Responses and criticisms received with a smile, so please let me know if you like it, hate it, or feel shrug-inducingly neutral. Also, I'm taking ideas for subsequent chapters, so if you REALLY want to see something happen, you'd better let me know, and I'll try to incorporate. Thanks for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6 Well thanks, Science Officer

**A/N: Rude word warning for this chapter.**

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"Well, thanks, Science Officer,"

As a child, Kirk hadn't been bothered about the dentist. Nor, in fact, going to the doctor. As a cadet, his exams hadn't fazed him too much, and sitting in the control chair for the first time had been exhilarating, not frightening. Pacing up and down his quarters, his stomach churning, his fists sweaty and clenched, Kirk reflected that the only thing that had made him feel this anxious before were the dreaded and unavoidable music performances he'd had to give at school. Stupid – yes, irrational – perhaps, but true. And thinking about holding a violin in his hand, standing in front of a seemingly enormous crowd of parents only put him in mind of Spock's Vulcan lute. Spock. Shit.

When his door buzzed, he couldn't quite believe it, even though he'd known it was imminent, and had been worrying about it happening for the last half hour. He had to repeat his call of 'come,' because his first attempt escaped his dry throat and mouth as a hoarse whisper. Spock strode a few steps into the room, and stood with his hands behind his back. The door slid closed quietly.

"Good evening, Captain,"

"Spock … hi," said Kirk, clearing his throat and throwing the Vulcan a nervous smile. Kirk suddenly realised that in all his worrying, he hadn't planned as much as a single clause of what he might say to Spock. A heavy silence stretched until finally Spock broke it,

"If the conversation, for which you requested my presence, is going to take in excess of five minutes, I believe it is customary for us to sit."

Kirk glanced up at Spock, still standing just within the door. Spock raised an eyebrow,

"One minute and four seconds have already elapsed," he added.

"Of course, yes," answered Kirk, finding his voice again, "Please – sit down." He pulled out a chair from the small table at which they had played their now infamous game of poker, and held out a hand. Spock took it with a nod, and Kirk was about to sit when he realised that by doing so he would perfectly recreate the arrangement of that night. Hesitating, he finally sat in McCoy's seat.

"So, I just thought we should, you know, meet up and talk about what's going on," he said bracingly, leaning back in his chair with a show of easiness. Spock's impassive face suggested that he was not fooled by Kirk's front.

"Please be more specific, Captain," he said.

"Well, you know," Kirk smiled a little, "you know …" he gestured vaguely between them, "… us."

Spock appeared to have pulled his ultimate deadpan I'm-an-emotionless-Vulcan stare out of the bag. Kirk looked at him, and felt the smile slide off his own face.

"I am still unclear as to the subject on which you desire to converse," answered Spock finally.

"_Us_, Spock," said Kirk, leaning forward, as if hoping that the encroachment into the Vulcan's personal space might remind him of the recent occasions where personal space had been thoroughly forgotten. "I want to talk about _us_,"

But Spock was holding on firmly to his bored donkey expression. Only the twitch of an eyebrow showed that he had heard Kirk at all. This was too much for the man, and he let out an irritated huff. Then, leaning back in his chair, he crossed his arms stubbornly, and levelled his gaze on the Vulcan's.

"Right, Spock," he said, with an impatient tone, "You know how over the past few weeks our relationship has changed – I mean before," he continued with a falsely instructing voice, "before, we used to do things like work on the bridge, get blasted to pieces on planets … sometimes we'd play chess," he nodded condescendingly at his first officer, "yeah? Remember that? Well, recently, in addition to those things, we've also been doing other things. We've been doing things like fucking, Spock. That's what I want to talk about – the fucking." He responded to Spock's look of quiet irritation by raising his eyebrows, demanding a reply.

"I see," said Spock, finally. "Captain, is it absolutely necessary to entertain such a conversation?"

"Yes,"

"Very well."

"Good. So – what's going on? I realise that I'm to blame for getting you drunk, or high, or whatever it is that chocolate does to Vulcans, during poker, and then for jumping you. But on Polisa – what the hell was that? I mean, you brought lube down with you …"

"Lubricant was merely a precaution."

"Precaution? It's not exactly part of the standard medical kit for diplomatic, low-risk, away missions, is it?"

"Negative."

"So you planned what happened down there?"

"Affirmative."

"Well," Kirk gestured violently, "What does that _mean_, Spock? You _wanted_ it to happen? You liked what happened between us before? You want it to become a regular thing? What?"

"Affirmative, Captain."

"Affirmative to what, Spock?" Kirk almost yelled, annoyance welling up inside him. He sighed, and ran his hands roughly over his face, holding them there, and pressing his palms into his eyes.

"Affirmative to everything you just said, Jim," came a soft reply.

Kirk dropped his hands from his face, and looked up at Spock. The Vulcan's unusually soft expression was mixed with his usual sincerity. Pressure phosphenes popped erratically in Krik's vision, surrounding Spock in a dream-like atmosphere; he blinked a few times to clear his eyes.

"So, you want to be with me again?" he asked, his voice now soft and hopeful.

"I find you to be appealing – both physically and mentally. If I had to name a friend, it would be you, Jim."

Kirk valiantly attempted to stop himself feeling too disappointed at these words. He knew, after all, that Spock struggled to use certain human terms to describe the feelings that Kirk knew very well he experienced. Spock may choose not to admit to them himself, but it was evident to anyone who knew him well.

"I know that it means a lot for you to say that, Spock," said Kirk, realising too late that his disappointment had filtered into his voice, "Thank you," he added, shooting Spock a smile. Spock frowned slightly,

"I have not conveyed the correct sentiments," he said, only half as a question.

"No, no – Spock, you don't-," began Kirk, but Spock cut over him,

"I have long since given up attempting to describe you and Dr. McCoy as anything but true friends, Captain," he said, "Though it may go against the values I try to live by, I cannot change it. If it were possible to, I would not, I believe."

Kirk smiled, and this time he felt it in his belly – genuine and warm. He nodded, and then said softly,

"But you are not sleeping with Dr. McCoy,"

"No." Spock tilted his head slightly, and Kirk felt the weight of his gaze might almost be measured in pounds. "My affection for you is greater," said Spock, showing no reticence about the word, "and I do not find Dr. McCoy to be physically stimulating."

Kirk couldn't help himself. He chuckled.

"Well, thanks, Science Officer."

Spock nodded once in acceptance. Kirk laughed again.

"I … I guess I just want to sort things out – make sure we both know what we want. I don't want there to be any confusion, you know – up on the bridge."

Spock's eyebrows shot up,

"I had not planned to engage you in sexual activity on the bridge, Captain,"

he said, eyeing Kirk closely, "That would not be conducive to efficient undertaking of duties, either for us, or for the other crewmen."

"Oh, really?" said Kirk, shooting Spock a disappointed look, "I thought …"

Spock's eyes widened in surprise, and Kirk laughed, waving a hand,

"I'm joking, Spock,"

"I'm relieved to hear that, Sir,"

"Seriously, though – what are we doing? Are we dating? Are we friends with benefits? I just think it might help to straighten it out now …" Kirk trailed off. He felt the nerves that had been absent hit him again, hard. He realised now that he had said it how much he didn't want to be only 'friends with benefits'. He didn't want to run off into a simulated sunset with Spock either but, well, he hadn't felt this way about anyone in a long time. He swallowed deeply, waiting for Spock to reply.

"I," began Spock, and then, to Kirk's surprise, the Vulcan paused. He lowered his gaze to his folded hands. Spock never paused – words came out of his mouth as smoothly as de-oxygenated breath. He started again, "It is my opinion that language, as powerful as it can be, cannot express the ineffable. Emotions," again he paused, and this time Kirk was not surprised. Emotions would always be a difficult topic for Spock, especially when he was talking about his own. "Emotions and feelings are too fluid to be exhaustively described by linguistic terms. Humans have a propensity to attach labels to complex relationships. " Spock raised his eyes to Kirk's, and the captain felt his heart swell when he spotted a look of uncharacteristic confusion in Spock's expression.

"Jim, all I know is that I enjoy engaging in intercourse with you, and that the feelings I have for you exceed those that, I believe, are typical for friendship. I … I find it difficult to express …" Spock finally trailed off, a frown upon his brow. Kirk knew he was grinning like a buffoon, but he didn't care much. He leant forward enough to place a hand upon Spock's,

"It's okay, Spock," he smiled, "Let's … let's just see how things go, shall we?"

"I believe that is the advisable course of action,"

Kirk nodded. He brushed his fingers lightly over the back of Spock's hand and then sat back.

"How about a game of chess?" Kirk asked, noticing that the frown on Spock's forehead had not entirely left. He'd forgotten just how much it was asking to make Spock part of a conversation of this type. McCoy was right – Kirk had needed to make the situation clearer. But what Kirk, and obviously McCoy, hadn't realised was that neither the captain, nor his first officer needed a label to clarify it. In fact, all that Kirk had needed was to hear himself described as a friend by the Vulcan.

They played chess for hours, until Spock suggested that the captain would be tired during the following day's shift. Spock helped him pack the set away, and then they both stood. Spock inclined his head, hands behind his back,

"Good night, Captain,"

"Yeah, good night, Spock," Kirk smiled. They both paused, and Kirk laughed nervously, deciding what to do next.

He reached out a hand to pat Spock on the arm, but thought at the last minute that to do so would be ridiculously 'chummy', given the circumstances. He panicked, and changed the angle, holding it out in front of him for a handshake. Spock, frowning again, and watching the captain's movements with a perplexed expression, moved his right hand out from behind his back, ready to engage in the awkward handshake. But as he did so, Kirk whipped his hand back, sticking it swiftly in his pocket. With the other, he leant forward and grasped Spock's shoulder, stepping in for a brief on-armed hug. Spock's outstretched hand was sandwiched between both of their groins. Kirk jumped backwards instantly, staring down at the hand with wide eyes. Spock stood still, his hand outstretched, gazing at Kirk as if he was wondering whether to take him to sickbay.

"Sorry," said Kirk, his voice strained, "I just … I forgot about Vulcans, and hands, you know, so I thought, you don't normally do handshakes … sorry,"

"That's quite all right, Captain," answered Spock, relocating his hand to the safety of his back. He inclined his head again, 'Good night … Jim."

Kirk smiled, and nodded,

"Good night, Spock."

The Vulcan turned, and strode out of the room. Kirk laughed softly in embarrassment, and flopped back onto his bed. Staring up at the ceiling, he let out a long sigh.

"Well, Bones," he said softly, "I didn't sort it out. But at least now I know that I don't really care."

Kirk continued to stare up at the ceiling, smiling over the awkwardness of their goodbye, and relishing the memory of the brief touch of Spock's hand, albeit accidentally, on his crotch. With another sigh, and a wry smile, Kirk closed his eyes, and started popping open the buttons of his flies.

* * *

**Quick update for me, what? :D I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks very much for all the kind reviews – especially the criticism! I'll try to make sure I answer them all separately. As to the English-isms … I'm irrevocably English, and try as I might, phrases just keep slipping out. I'm trying to be as Trek-style American as possible, but you'll have to forgive the occasional slip-up! I'd be perfectly suited to do Harry Potter fics! Reviews, as always, make me very, very happy. Thanks for reading!**


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